I published the early songs and monologues during the 1970s in a hand written book called OUT OF HIS HEAD. I later took those, added more and called the next book FABLES TO FRIGHTEN YOUR FROG. I then took those, added more again, and produced my first book with computer printed musical notation. This book I called SONGS WORTH STEALING.
The last incarnation was WRIGLEY'S WRITINGS, published by Bob Dobson at LANDY publishing in 1999. All these have gone now, so rather than issue another printing I thought I'd post them on the website. The process will take some time, so this page should keep growing.
1: OUR BILL AND THE CONCRETE MIXER
2: DIXIE'S DOG
3: THE BALLAD OF KNOCKING NELLY
4: PIE SATURDAY
5: MANCHESTER RECRUITS
6: THE ONE PLACE FOR ME
7: PLASTIC PIES
All these songs are written or co-written by me, and registered MCPS/PRS. If you sing them in a club, then do keep to the honourable custom of mentioning the author(s). HAVE FUN!
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1: OUR BILL AND THE CONCRETE MIXER
The first song I wrote was OUR BILL AND THE CONCRETE MIXER in 1970. An embryonic version of this soon appeared on Topic's OWDHAM EDGE LP. This has since been put on CD under the generic title of DEEP LANCASHIRE, which is actually the Deep Lancashire and Owdham Edge LPs together. I did a better version on my BUGGERLUGS CD in 1993.
(click on the music above for a bigger image in a new window)Our Bill had a concrete mixer
He was coming home last night
When he come down t’street and he saw his house
There’s a sports car parked outside
He thought “Here’s me going out to work
And my wife’s at home on t’job”
So he swore he’d get her lover boy
And smack him up his gob
Then he thought “Now look here Billy lad
Use what’s under your crop”
So he ups with his concrete mixer
- Fills the car right up to t’top
Then he gets back in his cab and sits
As quiet as a mouse
And he sees the bloke coming to his car
But he come from next door’s house
Well, Bill starts up his engine
He’d never felt such a prat
He was down that road and a mile away
In twenty seconds flat
But if Bill had stayed a bit longer
He’d have seen his wife, so sweet
Giving a kiss to her lover boy
As he pedalled down the street
So now his missus gets her oats
And Bill, he feels a berk
For thinking his wife was having it off
While he was out at work
On the BUGGERLUGS CD
Click here to see the tracklisting and listen to MP3 snippets
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2: DIXIE'S DOG
The second song I wrote from urban myths, this was told to me as a story by a bloke called Dixie.
We were performing playlets as the Octagon Roadshow in a Bolton pub called The Wheatsheaf (this was before we left to become The Ken Campbell Roadshow).
I remember we'd just done the tragic story of the girl hitchiker, when Dixie came up and told me this tale.
Bob Hoskins, one of the four of us, liked it so much he called his dog "Dixie" (this confused the dog, for it was called Arthur).
I wrote the song the same day that I wrote the previous one - in a large cupboard at the back of the Octagon Theatre.
(click on the music above for a bigger image in a new window)
One day not very long ago in a patch of pea soup fog
I put my scarf and coat on for a walk outside wi’ t’dog
The air was thick, you couldn’t see a yard or two down t’street
When something stopped in front of me - a pair of policeman’s feet
There grew from them some trousers, they were dyed in navy blue
A helmet, a coat, and a pair of hands, with a notebook in ‘em too
I pretends I hasn’t seen him, like, there being so much fog
When a thund’rous voice booms out “Now where’s your licence for your dog?”
Well, times were bad and jobs were scarce, I’d had to go on t’dole
And all the money I’d scraped together I’d spent on food and coal
He knew I had no licence, he was kicking up a fuss
He says, “Bring it in tomorrow or you’ll be having your tea with us”
So all next day I sat at home and looked at t’chimbley flue
Wond’ring if he’d come around and thinking what to do
Then I heard a noise at t’top o’t’road, it sounded like flat feet
And I knew it was that copper as he trundled down the street
Well, I hid myself behind the door as he began to knock
He’d no idea I were so near I could even smell his socks
When he got tired he went away and I brewed me a cup of tea
And I thought whatever happened, t’last laugh‘d be on me
So next day two burly rozzers come a-swaggering in the place
But I had my licence ready, and a grin all o’er my face
He says “Ey up, you were stony broke when I met you in the fog
How can you afford a licence?” I says “I’ve sold my bloody dog”
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3: THE BALLAD OF KNOCKING NELLY
Bob Hoskins reminded me of the tale just when I'd finished DIXIE'S DOG. It's a classic story, obviously a joke, but this situation is one of the most widely found in urban myths. It's become my most widely pinched song, some performers believing it to be traditional. This is both quite flattering and annoying.
(click on the music above for a bigger image in a new window)
Gasman, coalman, water board or the bloke who mends the telly
They’re all the same to Harold’s wife, the famous Knocking Nelly
She handles all her creditors, for years she’s had no bills
But of Harrys, Roys and teddy boys I know she gets her fill
Last week when Harold’s out at work she’s upstairs with a bloke
He’s the football pool collector and he’s Nelly’s latest poke
She’s got his vest and trousers off, she’s asking him for more
But then she hears her husband dear come waltzing through the door
She bungs her lover in the wardrobe door, and then she shouts “Oh crumbs”
For dangling out the wardrobe door were the pool collector’s plums
Then Harold he comes up the stairs and says “Now hello dear
The boss gave me the day off work ... and what’s these dangling here?”
Well, Nelly’s seen this all before and a very good tale she tells
For “I’ve just been out shopping and I’ve bought these couple of bells
But they’re not of the ringing kind, in fact they’re just a joke”
So Harold lifts his finger up and he gives the bells a poke
Now Harold keeps on poking and agrees the bells are dead
And the bloke inside the wardrobe’s going a peculiar shade of red
Harold says the bells‘ll ring if he clouts ‘em with his hammer
And Nelly sitting on the bed can hardly raise a stammer
Harold smacks ‘em once and twice but still the bells won’t ring
He raises up his hammer then to have one final swing
He’d sworn to make the bells go ‘ding’ by George he wasn’t wrong
For the bloke inside the wardrobe shouts “For Christ’s sake - DING DING DONG”
Dixie's Dog and The Ballad Of Knocking Nelly are both on my first album
THE PHENOMENAL B. WRIGLEY
Click here to see the tracklisting and listen to MP3 snippets
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4: PIE SATURDAY
Written as part of the documentary BOLTON WANDERERS at the Octagon Theatre in the summer of 1970, this song also stands up on its own.A true story of applied economics destined to end in failure.
That day (around 1896) is still known as "Pie Saturday" in and around Bolton.
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Roll up, roll up and purchase your pies
They’re only tuppence apiece
They’re tasty and round, they’re wholesome and sound
And they’re made of the best Bolton meat
When the crowd starts coming I’ll sell ‘em so quick
I know I’ll be rushed off my feet
So get yours in now while there’s some left to sell
They’re succulent, tasty and sweet
Roll up, roll up and purchse your pies
They’re only three ha’pence apiece
They’re tasty and round, they’re wholesome and sound
And they’re made of the best Bolton meat
I’ve spent all my money in making my pies
It’s cost me a month’s rent you’ll see
But wi’t’profit I’ll make I’ll have brandy and cake
Instead of black puddings and tea
Roll up, roll up and purchse your pies
They’re only a penny apiece
They’re tasty and round, they’re wholesome and sound
And they’re made of the best Bolton meat
Now that’s the last offer I’m making today
They’re the cheapest you’ll find in the town
They cost me five pound, now look what I’ve found
They’ve outnumbered the people in t’ground
Roll up, roll up and purchse your pies
They’re only a ha’penny apiece
They’re tasty and round, they’re wholesome and sound
And they’re made of the best Bolton meat
Well that’s finished me, I’ll have to go home
But I haven’t enough money for t’tram
I’m stony broke and I think it’s no joke
I’ll be borrowing some cash off my mam
Roll up, roll up and take home your pies
I’m giving the buggers away
I’ve had ‘em a week, they’re developing feet
They’re the fastest in Bolton today
I recorded this on GOD'S OWN COUNTY
Click here to see the tracklisting and listen to MP3 snippets
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5: MANCHESTER RECRUITS
Another true story, written around 1973 for a BBC tv programme that never got made. The song lives on ...
(click on the music above for a bigger image in a new window)
Cold and grey on a market day
And the people stood around
When a band of men from Scotland came
To recruit for the Stuart crown
Some were dressed in uniform
While others they had none
And a female following all the while
Was beating on the drum
Now when they reached the market place
It’s there they made their stand
Saying “Who will join with Bonnie Prince Charles
And fight at his right hand?”
The people heard the cries they made
And quickly gathered round
Some had murmured “Treason”
While others made no sound
Then Tom Sydall, the blacksmith’s son
Came forth to where they stood
His father with Sacheverell
Had fought and shed his blood
And when that they had welcomed him
The shilling in his fist
Tom Chadwick and Tom Deacon came
And cried “We will enlist”
James Bradshaw then, the merchant’s son
Gave oath that he would too
His friends and brothers followed him
And swore they would be true
The papers signed, the task was done
And still the day was new
Eighty men for Charlie’s sake
Bade Manchester adieu
Recorded on my 2nd TOPIC album ROUGH & WRIGLEY
Click here to see the tracklisting and listen to MP3 snippets
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6: THE ONE PLACE FOR ME
The brief was to write a love song for the town of Bolton, to be played at the opening of the Octagon production of "Spring And Port Wine" in summer 1970. Our white cat starred in it as well (being quite immune to distractions because she was deaf).
(click on the music above for a bigger image in a new window)
Some live by the sea and with them I’ll agree
The seaside’s a nice place to be
Some live in the hills where there aren’t any mills
And the parking lots always are free
But I’m living here cause you see
It’s the one town where I like to be
there’s no finer place and I’ll say to your face
Bolton’s the one place for me
There’s houses galore there’s pubs by the score
I can say that I know all of them
There’s a funny shaped theatre they’ve built it quite near to
The town hal and it looks quite a gem
There’s fountains and staues on show
And a precinct where cars mustn’t go
I’ll tell you again that in spite of the rain
Bolton’s the one place for me
Some folk say it’s smoky and dirty and poky
And it’s nothing but houses and grime
But if they’d come to see then they’d have to agree
It’s changing its face all the time
If you don’t like the motorways there
Get out and breathe fresh moorland air
It’s pudding and peas and a slice of bread please
Bolton’s the one place for me
They can be unkind when they say we’re behind
And we’re still wearing cloth caps and clogs
We might still have backstreets but our houses are neat
It’s not us who are going to the dogs
Our bitter is one of the best
It’ll even mend holes in your vest
I’ll make it quite clear I’m in love with the beer
Bolton’s the one place for me
I recorded it more than 20 years after on the BUGGERLUGS CD
Click here to see the tracklisting and listen to MP3 snippets
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7: PLASTIC PIES
An early protest song from me - well, a lot of people have complained about it. On the recording in 1974, Topic decided that the penultimate line "That’s up his arsehole" shouldn't go on the record. I'm sure they helped to foster the high moral standard we find the country in today. Hah!
(click on the music above for a bigger image in a new window)
Standing on the station at a quarter past eleven
Hadn’t had a bite to eat since I got up at seven
Then I espies a tray of tater pies
So I went up to the bloke and ordered four
I shot back to the table ‘cause my stomach was quite sore
But as I did I slipped and dropped the first pie on the floor
It hit the deck and caught me on the neck
Then it bounced back to the plate just like before
CHORUS: Plastic pies are all I see and all I ever get
Plastic pies and rubber cakes‘ll polish me off yet
Well damn your eyes, and take your plastic pies
And you can shove ‘em where the monkey shoves his nuts
I went back to the bloke and said “This pie’s as hard as hell”
He looked the pie all over and said “This one’s not been well”
He took off the crust and blew away the dust
Then said “I’ll change the oil and the points and plugs as well”
I rushed back to the table where the first pie should have been
There were only crumbs upon the plate, and then I went quite green
It had crossed the floor, and walked out through the door
And it caught the half past twelve to Colwyn Bay
CHORUS: Plastic pies are all I see ...
An old man selling tortoises outside the pet shop door
A drunk came by and bought one then he come back for some more
He said “Ey up Jack” and clapped him on the back
And said “I’ve never had pies as good as this before”
Now prices they are rising fast ‘cause no-one ever learns
And very soon we’ll all see signs like ‘Pies on Easy Terms’
90p a day would seem a lot to pay
When it’s just for the deposit on the tray
LAST CHORUS: Plastic pies are all I see and all I ever get
Plastic pies and rubber cakes‘ll polish me off yet
Well damn your eyes, and take your plastic pies
And you can shove ‘em where the monkey shoves his nuts
That’s up his arsehole
Shove ‘em where the monkey shoves his nuts
I recorded this on ROUGH & WRIGLEY
Click here to see the tracklisting and listen to MP3 snippets
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